Earthrise (Her Instruments Book 1) (49 page)

“Ah, Captain Eddings!” NotAgain was standing near a landed fighter, a data tablet in hand. “I’m glad to see you well.”

“I’m glad to be well, believe me,” Reese said, taking his proffered hand and covering it with hers. “Did you get what you hoped for?”

“All that I hoped for and more,” NotAgain said. “You and your crew did superb work, Captain. In fact, I think it’s fairly likely you’ll all receive a Copper Sickle for it.”

“A what?” Reese asked.

He laughed. “You might not have heard of it. It’s one of the few civilian citations given by Fleet. It’s quite an honor.”

“Wow,” Reese said, cheeks warming. “That’s... unexpected.”

NotAgain grinned. “Don’t look so pole-axed, Captain. You’ve all earned one several times over.” He shook his head. “As it is, you’ll be one of the few people to have earned one and still be upright afterwards. You were damned lucky to have such good back-up.”

Reese nodded. “I meant to thank you for that. The weapons, the personnel—”

He laughed. “I wasn’t talking about them. I meant your bodyguards. You should have told me you had an Eye-trained Phoenix. Though I doubt you could have known your Eldritch would hold his own so well either.”

“An... Eye-trained Phoenix?” Reese asked.

“You didn’t know?” NotAgain’s brows lifted. “Count yourself lucky, then. As I understand it, most of the Phoenix you meet off-world are Eye-worshippers, but few of them get far enough ‘long in their meditative practices to get to the physical training. I hear it’s rigorous... takes a really well-placed palmer shot to the head to put them down, or significant injury. Maybe you could find out more about how they do it?”

“From Bryer?” Reese laughed. “Not likely.”

NotAgain grinned. “They do tend to be quiet. Keep him around, though, Captain. He’s the one who told us how to find Surapinet, though it took our engineers to decode the information. He got a message to us that Surapinet was in a flier that sounded disharmonious in the high notes. Seems an overpowered engine emits an unpleasant combination of sounds in the ultrasonic range—once we sifted the data for that we found him easily.”

“It sounds like something he’d say,” Reese said. She shuddered. “I’m glad you caught him.”

NotAgain’s voice hardened. “Me too.”

Reese watched the Fleet officers striding in and out of the light. She’d had enough of people talking in voices like that, but on the other hand she was grateful they existed. The contradiction was discomforting. “I guess Surapinet won’t be paying out my contract.”

“Mr. Surapinet won’t be doing anything but sitting in a prison cell for quite some time,” NotAgain said.

“And the crystals?”

The Tam-illee sighed. “We’re not sure yet. That’s a matter for the Alliance Diplomatic Corps, not us. But we’re sending them the bodies and the information you provided, and hopefully they’ll be able to salvage the situation. Speaking of which…” His ears perked. “I hope you don’t mind that I’m having your salvage towed with ours to Starbase Kappa.”

“My what?” Reese said, startled out of her contemplation of the work being done by the captain’s personnel. “I don’t have any salvage.”

“Such modesty,” NotAgain said. “Of course the pirate vessels we found alongside your ship when we answered your distress call were your wrecks. I took the liberty of registering them in your name since you were busy helping us conduct this operation.”

“I was what?” Reese said, gaping at him.

“Busy,” NotAgain said. She swore that with every word he grew more cheerful. “But don’t worry. When you arrive at Starbase Kappa you can decide whether to cannibalize them for parts or sell them whole. The Fleet depot would certainly be interested, but I’m sure the civilian wreckers would be willing to bid for them as well.”

“You’re giving me the wrecks?” Reese asked, unable to believe him.

“Giving?” NotAgain shook his head and tsked. “You can’t give someone something that’s already theirs.” He grinned.

“But you—they—doesn’t Fleet need them?”

“With all the fighters they just threw at us? We’ve got plenty of our own, Captain Eddings. You don’t have to give us yours.”

“I... should stop arguing with you, shouldn’t I,” Reese said.

“It would be a waste,” NotAgain said. “Fleet appreciates your generous desire to donate your profits, but we have more than enough for ourselves. Keep your rightful salvage, Captain... and with it, our thanks for your service to the Alliance.”

“Yes, sir,” Reese said.

NotAgain held out his hand. “If we don’t meet again, it was a pleasure.”

She clasped it and squeezed. “Me too.” Remembering the Tam-leyan emphasis on families, she added, “I hope you have more grandchildren than you can hold in your arms.”

He laughed. “May it be so for us both. Be well, Captain.”

“Good night,” Reese said.

A different Fleet officer drove her back to the
Earthrise
. Standing just inside the cargo bay, Reese watched the dwindling lights of the kestrel and leaned against the wall. Salvage from two wrecks was a windfall she could barely wrap her arms around. Had Fleet not already repaired her Well drive, she could have done so several times over. And while it wouldn’t make her fabulously wealthy, she would certainly have enough to fund her merchant endeavor for several years... if, in fact, she wanted to.

Reese turned to the shadowed depths of the bay and her eyes fell on a crate and her crumpled vest. She had forgotten about the dagger. Without unwrapping it, she lifted it from the crate and took it with her to her room.

In the sink, the dagger tinted the water she dunked it in bright pink with oily whorls of brown soil. She ignored them. She ignored that the crust she was scrubbing at with a sponge was blood or something unnamable only a doctor would have been able to identify. She tried not to think too hard about anything while doing it—she just rinsed, scrubbed, drained the sink and refilled it until all the grime had come off. This was her responsibility, wasn’t it? To face what had been done on her behalf. To acknowledge that as uncomfortable as it made her, Bryer’s and Hirianthial’s violence had kept her in one piece. The least she could do was stare at that until she stopped flinching at it so hard. She’d done harder things in her life… she could do this one, too.

Wiping the dagger dry with a cloth she finally allowed herself to examine it and see that it wasn’t the one from the case, but something plainer and newer. She turned it in her hands, confused. Had Hirianthial bought it in the Alliance? Why not use the ones he had? In her curiosity she twisted the thing to one side and nicked herself on its edge, which was when the door chimed.

“Come in,” Reese said around her thumb.

The twins appeared in the door, looking washed and perky.

“Feeling better?” Sascha asked as they entered.

“Much,” Reese said. “You two look better too.”

“What did you do to your hand?” Irine asked.

“It’s nothing.” Reese drained the sink and joined the Harat-Shar in her room. “Just a cut.”

“We checked the ship from feet to sensors,” Sascha said. “Fleet did everything but tap out the dents in the hull. We can leave whenever you’re ready.”

“Good,” Reese said. She waved them to her bunk and sat on the chair. “Let’s do that after everyone’s gotten at least six hours’ sleep.”

“Do we have a destination?” Sascha asked as Irine settled at his feet.

Reese grinned. “Do we! Turns out we’re civilian heroes and while Fleet doesn’t do anything as crass as paying them for bravery, they do get generous with gifts.”

Irine’s ears perked. “This sounds good.”

“The pirates that were tailing us? Their ships are ours now. Salvage waiting for us at Starbase Kappa.”

Sascha whistled. “Not a small gift.”

“No,” Reese said. “So we’ll head there, evaluate the wrecks and sell them to best advantage. After that... who knows? I guess we’ll go wherever sounds most interesting.”

“We could go anywhere,” Irine said, eyes wide.

“We could,” Reese said. “Just not back to Harat-Sharii.”

Sascha chuckled.

“I’m guessing you’re not here to check up on me,” Reese said.

“You’re wrong,” Sascha said. “We are here to check up on you. We’re just also here for one more thing.”

Reese took a deep breath. “Which is?”

Irine said, “You know.”

“Pretend I’m without clues,” Reese said.

“You’ve been treating Hirianthial like the lowest form of dirt,” Sascha said. “Since the rest of us like having him around, we’re hoping you’ll make it clear to him that you like having him around, too.”

“What if I don’t like having him around?” Reese asked, surprising herself with her own uncertainty.

Apparently her quiet tone surprised the twins as well. They exchanged glances. With furrowed brow, Irine said, “How can you not like having him around? You read more novels about Eldritch than any person I’ve ever met. Now you’ve got the real thing!”

“Sometimes the things you fantasize about aren’t what you end up really wanting,” Reese said, staring at her folded hands. She shook herself and smiled wanly. “Though I don’t guess that’s something Harat-Shar are familiar with.”

Sascha was studying her. “Actually, that’s the first thing you’ve said that makes sense.”

Reese frowned. “Really?”

“Really,” Sascha said. He sighed. “Look, if you really want him gone then send him away. But if you’re not sure... then tell him he’s welcome.”

“Because if you don’t expressly tell him,” Irine said, anticipating Reese’s question, “he’ll go away. He won’t stay if staying is going to make you miserable.”

“He doesn’t make me miserable,” Reese said. “He just makes me... “ She shifted in her chair, looking for the right word. “Uncomfortable.”

Sascha nodded. “Of course he does. That’s how all the best things start.”

“Pardon?” Reese said.

He smiled. “The best things. Adventures. Destinations. Knowledge. Relationships. All of them start with uncomfortable moments. It’s only when you’re grappling with something new that you might uncover something wonderful... but unfortunately, that means grappling with something new.”

“New things chafe,” Irine said, plucking at her tail.

Reese stared at them.

“Promise you’ll be decisive,” Sascha said quietly. “Either tell him to go or tell him to stay, but make a decision.”

She ran a hand over the top of her head. “Sascha—”

“Please, Reese,” Irine said. “If we’re going to lose the prettiest guy on the ship, let it be because you really don’t want him around, not because he thought it would please you to leave.”

“I promise,” Reese said, then glared at them as best she could. It wasn’t much of a glare—hadn’t she been planning to work on that? “You two are such trouble. If I’d have known what I was in for when I hired you... “

“You would have done it anyway,” Sascha said with a grin. “Because we’ve grown on you like flowers on an open field.”

“Get out of here,” Reese said, suppressing her laughter. “Before I throw you out. I have thinking to do.”

“Aye, aye, ma’am!” Irine said, climbing to her feet. She added, “I learned that from the yummy Fleet people.”

“Did you—oh, get moving. I don’t want to know!”

Irine snickered. They headed for the door, where Sascha bent down and plucked up a crumpled cloth from beside the door. “You might want to return this, Boss.”

Reese caught it as they left. She shook her head and started to stand when her fingers registered the caress of felt-soft fabric. Abruptly she sat again and looked at the tabard in her lap. Cleaning her room had been the last thing on her mind the past few days and she’d given little thought to the clothing she’d discarded on the way to the shower after Fleet had dragged the pirates off the
Earthrise
.

She petted the silky material. The pile was so thick it reminded her of Allacazam’s neural fur, plush and soft. On the tabard’s face, deep channels cut through the velvet, exposing the nap in an elegant but random pattern of swirls and spirals. Most of the books she’d read about Eldritch had only made passing references to their clothing... but the recent ones, the ones by the Harat-Shariin matron, had mentioned an expensive but beautiful tapestried cloth the Eldritch called meander. One of the novels had even described its laborious production, hand-made by artisans famed for the individuality of their patterns.

Reese bit her lip. If that part had been true, the tabard represented months of painstaking craftsmanship, unique and irreplaceable. Her fingers traced the tattered edge of the front panel, following the broken threads, the unraveling seams that connected the satin lining to the cloth. It suddenly seemed so senseless. She bent over it and hugged her knees.

The smell of perfume—no, cologne—clung to the fabric. Something rich with a touch of spice, a woodsy scent that reminded her of trees. She wondered if the twins had smelled it when they’d been braiding the crew’s gift into Hirianthial’s hair... and she was suddenly glad she’d added her own contribution to the dangle.

But he’d read her mind. And he could do it again. She’d seen the ease with which he’d guided them through the chaos in the pirate compound. Not only could he read minds, but he wasn’t dumb. Simply hearing her thoughts wasn’t scary enough alone. The fact that he could read them and then construct the secrets of her heart after knowing her for the briefest fraction of her life... and that didn’t even begin to touch what he’d done with a single dagger. Not even one as impressive as the ones she’d glimpsed in the case.